


It Was Never Panama

by YourShadow



Series: The Silver Duelist & Red Knight [1]
Category: Gundam SEED
Genre: Established Relationship, Guilt, M/M, Reunions, Scarification, apology
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-24
Updated: 2017-04-24
Packaged: 2018-10-23 06:10:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,390
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10713801
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/YourShadow/pseuds/YourShadow
Summary: Summary: Yzak and Athrun’s first meeting after Yzak recovered from his wound by the Strike and the consequences therein. [Takes place at the start of Operation: Spitbreak in GS]





	It Was Never Panama

**Author's Note:**

> This fic has nothing to do with the operation itself, I just thought the title was catchy.

Athrun’s heart was pounding. Ever since the Le Creuset team had been separated--ever since he had been separated from Yzak--he couldn’t shake the feeling that this was all his fault.

The wound his teammate received. The humiliation they had all suffered. All of it was because he couldn’t bring himself to kill his childhood best friend. He deserved Yzak’s anger. He deserved the commander’s doubt.

He even deserved the wrenching of his heart whenever he thought about Yzak’s handsome face being marred by the blade of his former friend. And he deserved the nauseous guilt that clung to him like a shroud when he told himself he could have prevented this, all of this pain and suffering, if he had just pulled the damn trigger.

After so much time in space, waiting to be reunited with the rest of his team that fell to Earth, it felt like a rush to finally see them again during Operation: Spitbreak. He, Nicol, and Commander Rau Le Creuset all descended to the Earth’s surface at Gibraltar, where Yzak and Dearka were waiting.

With the timing of the mission so close due to their planned destination (hint: it was never Panama), Athrun almost forgot to feel trepidation. But as he neared the room where his comrades were waiting, he hesitated, dropping behind Nicol as they walked.

The green-haired boy looked back at him, “You okay, Athrun?”

He swallowed, brushing his sweaty palms on his pants. “Y-yeah, I’m fine.”

Nicol gave him a small knowing smile. “Nervous?”

Athrun couldn’t help but let out a huff of laughter. “Guess so.”

His teammate turned fully toward him, putting his hands on his shoulders. “It’ll be alright. It’s Yzak. He’ll be angry, but he’ll do what it takes to ensure the mission is a success.”

With a glum smile, Athrun asked, “Do you think he considers decking me in the face part of the mission’s success?”

Nicol let out a soft giggle. “Maybe. I would hope he’s calmed down by now, but you never know with him.”

It’s why they called him a hothead; beyond earshot, or when they thought he wasn’t paying attention. God forbid they say it to his face.

Athrun sucked in a breath and nodded to himself, schooling his expression into the perfect soldier boy he was groomed to be. They opened the door.

It was the first thing he noticed, of course, because his eyes naturally focused on the silver-haired boy standing in front of him. The scar. The wound Kira gave him. The mutilation Athrun could have prevented had he only stopped the battle before it even began.

All of his calm, cool-headed collectiveness vanished. He felt sick.

“Yzak...your _scar_ ,” he breathed, horrified.

The look he received in return was none too friendly. He knew it well.

To be quite honest, Athrun Zala was barely paying attention to what the commander was saying about their mission. He couldn’t tear his eyes away from Yzak and the still pink, raised gash running from his left eye to his right cheek. His hands itched to touch it, so he clenched them at his side.

He could tell it was annoying Yzak, the fact that he couldn’t stop staring. But how could he not? He did this. It might as well have been him inside of the Strike when that moment happened.

“Let’s see...Athrun, you’ll be in charge,” Rau said.

Athrun finally blinked and looked away from Yzak--who finally turned his gaze fully onto him instead of just side-eyeing him--to look at his commander. “What, me?” he asked, dazed.

“Yes, you’ll be leading the team for this mission. I’m counting on you.” And with that, Rau Le Creuset left.

Athrun was still staring blankly into the space his commander had once occupied when one of his comrades--he couldn’t even tell who--cleared their throat to get his attention.

“So,” it was Dearka, who now spoke, “what’s the plan, Zala?”

“Uh…”

“Tch, this should be fucking fantastic,” Yzak mumbled, seething.

“Yzak!” Nicol chided.

“Shut it, Amarfi,” the silver-haired boy barked at him.

“H-hey…” Athrun took a small step forward, hand reaching out. But when Yzak’s cold blue eyes landed on him, the intensity of them left Athrun feeling winded.

That icy stare would haunt him until the day they laid him in his grave.

***

Yzak was beyond furious. His nerves were so fired up, he felt like electrical wires were sparking off inside of his veins instead of blood.

Athrun was coming.

He thought about what he would do when he saw the other boy. Deck him right in the face? No, not around the commander. Shoot out an insult? Possibly, if context allowed it. Ignore him?

No. He could never ignore Zala. Mr. First Place, Always Better, Son of the Chairman Athrun Zala was someone Yzak would never be able to shake off of his shoulders. It infuriated him and exhilarated him at the same time. He was always trying to excel, to best the favored blue-haired boy, at anything and everything they did. He couldn’t tell if it only angered him more when he lost, or only impressed him further with Athrun’s seemingly natural accomplishments.

Damn Athrun.

Damn him and those sparkling emeralds.

He was in the middle of shouting at the commander when the door opened. He knew who it was before he noticed blue and green hair in his periphery. One, because he knew they were coming. Two, because he could always tell when Athrun was in the room. His presence was overwhelming.

Yzak couldn’t bare to look at him now. He had to resist balling up his fist and smashing it into that soft baby face.

But the horror and fear laced in Athrun’s voice when he said “Yzak, your _scar,_ ” chilled him. He couldn’t tell if the white-hot feeling blazing up his spine was rage or something far, far worse. He could only glare as he stood to the side.

He looked back at the commander, who began debriefing them, but he could feel Athrun’s stare penetrating him like a knife. It was unnerving. Why couldn’t he just look away already?

It was difficult to pay attention to Le Creuset, but his head cleared as soon as the commander declared that Athrun would lead their team. He grit his teeth and turned to face Zala--who was looking away now, his expression dumbstruck as he faced the commander.

Yzak’s fists were clenched so hard, he could feel his nails digging into the skin of his palms. Athrun didn’t deserve to lead this team. He didn’t even deserve to be _on_ this team.

But something told him this was Athrun’s final chance to prove himself, not only to the commander, but to his teammates as well. To Yzak.

So he stowed away his anger and unclenched his fists as Commander Rau Le Creuset left the room, leaving the newly created Zala team all alone.

Athrun was still standing there, bewildered. Yzak glanced at Dearka. The Buster pilot cleared his throat to get the other’s attention.

“So, what’s the plan, Zala?”

Athrun shook his head and looked in Dearka’s direction. When all he could say was “Uh…,” Yzak knew this mission was a lost cause.

“Tch, this should be fucking fantastic,” he growled to himself.

Nicol let out an exclamation, probably due to his language, but he wasn’t having any of that today. “Shut it, Amarfi,” he snarled.

“H-hey.”

Yzak turned his angry look on Athrun, who tried to come between them. It stopped the other boy short. Those green eyes held a world of emotion, but only one stood out.

Heartbreak.

***

As they continued staring at each other, it became clear to the others that this was one confrontation that neither of them wanted to be privy to.

“Well, I’ll just be going now,” Dearka announced and walked toward the door.

“Um, guys?” Nicol tried to get their attention, but the two were locked in a heated stare-off.

“Just forget it, Nicol. Let’s leave them be for now,” he said, grabbing the boy’s arm and dragging him out of the room.

“But what if they get into a fight?” Nicol asked, looking back at the door as it closed--measuring the tension in Athrun’s back and the acidity in Yzak’s expression.

“Who cares as long as the mission carries on?” Dearka said. At Nicol’s disappointed look, he added, “I think it’ll be fine. They need...a moment, between the two of them.”

Nicol looked down at the floor as he walked beside his teammate and mumbled, “I just hope it ends well for all of us.”

***

“Well?” Yzak began, crossing his arms over his chest so as to discourage himself from beating the ever-living shit out of the other boy.

“Well...what?” Athrun asked, still looking confused.

Yzak exhaled loudly. “What do you have to say for yourself?”

“I’m sorry.”

The statement caught Yzak off guard. It caught Athrun off guard, too, but it was the only thing he could think to say in the moment.

His fingers curled and uncurled. He took a step toward Yzak.

“Stay away from me,” the silver-haired boy spat. He couldn’t let Athrun get too close to him, or he might lose the little shred of sanity he had left.

Athrun looked hurt. Like a spear was lanced through his heart. He physically recoiled, those green eyes looking like an ocean Yzak could just drown in.

“Don’t,” Yzak whispered, “you dare.”

Athrun’s mouth was dry. Despite the warning glare, he took another step forward after a moment of trepidation. Yzak stood his ground, glare intensifying, as Athrun got closer. He rocked back a bit on his heels as the Aegis pilot reached out, hand shaking slightly.

His thumb brushed against Yzak’s scar as he cupped the other boy’s cheek. “I’m sorry,” he whispered again. He didn’t dream of asking for forgiveness. Yzak had every right to hate him after what had happened.

But Yzak couldn’t stay mad at Athrun. Not with the way he was looking at him. So instead, he took a deep breath and closed his eyes, feeling Athrun’s clammy hand on his face. He twitched a bit as Athrun’s thumb traced the line of his scar. When his finger got to the top, Yzak opened his eyes to level the other boy with a displeased look.

“I’m responsible for this,” Zala stated.

“Yes, you are,” Joule replied.

With a small nod, Athrun stepped even closer, enveloping Yzak into a hug. Yzak kept his arms crossed for a moment, letting the other know his frustration, but eventually unfolded and slowly wrapped them around Athrun’s back.

They stood in silence for a moment. Athrun’s head dropped to Yzak’s shoulder, his embrace tightening as tears formed behind his eyelids. His breath hitched.

Yzak squeezed back, nails digging into the other’s uniform. He wanted to make Athrun pay, but the look in those green eyes told him the boy was already punishing himself tenfold. Guilt was eating away at him, and it would consume him alive if he let it. Yzak pondered letting it happen for the briefest of seconds before dismissing the idea entirely.

What would he be without Athrun Zala? Would he move up to first place simply because the champion was knocked out of the running? No, that would be a poor substitute for actually proving he was better than the other.

And he would miss the way Athrun looked at him when no one else was around and they could relax around each other. That small smile he would give before placing a chaste kiss on his cheek. Yzak would have to chase him down for a proper one on the lips. Seeing the dignified blush after was well worth it.

All of that seemed to change after Heliopolis. Athrun didn’t look at him unless they were arguing. He was mostly looking in at himself, fighting some inner war. Yzak didn’t understand it. A traitor was a traitor, and that was what the Strike pilot was.

But when Yzak tried to hold Athrun’s hand after a battle, the boy turned away. He didn’t recognize the shame at first, but looking back, he could see it clear as day.

Athrun couldn’t face Yzak after failing to kill Kira. He knew the other was judging him, questioning his loyalty, his resolve as a soldier. It pained him to think that Yzak thought lesser of him for it.

He didn’t, for the record. He was just disappointed that Z.A.F.T.’s golden boy also happened to have a heart of gold, and angry that he loved him for it.

“Alright, that’s enough,” Yzak mumbled, prying Athrun off of him. He wasn’t one for displays of affection, especially when he was irritated.

Athrun wiped his eyes and collected himself, but it was just surface. Underneath, Yzak could still see the turmoil.

“Excuse me, that was...not very proper of me,” the son of the Chairman said.

Yzak snorted. “We’re alone, dipshit. You know I don’t care about that stuff.”

The other boy couldn’t help but to chuckle at his crassness. Yzak allowed a small smirk of appreciation.

“And don’t worry,” the silver-haired hothead said, a bit quieter. “I promise not to slit your throat while you’re sleeping... _Commander_ Zala.”

Athrun smiled at him. “Well that’s a relief. I can rest easy now.”

But Yzak could tell Athrun wouldn’t be getting very much sleep. Not with his thoughts being plagued of his mistakes and regrets. Judging by the dark circles underneath his eyes, he had probably been tossing and turning for several nights.

Yzak couldn’t resist the urge to hook a finger under the other boy’s chin and lean in for a kiss, so he didn’t. Athrun’s surprised expression melted into a relieved one.

“Just promise me one thing, Athrun,” Yzak looked deep into his eyes, tone serious.

“Anything,” the other said quickly--too quickly, but sincere.

“Take down that pilot--or I’ll do it for you.”

Athrun was left stunned as Yzak walked past him after delivering the ultimatum. He remembered his commander’s words after the battle where the Duel pilot was wounded: “Are you going to shoot him down, or _be_ shot down?”

Thinking about the scar on his lover’s face helped Athrun make his decision.

**Author's Note:**

> *puts on sunglasses * I'm back, bitches.


End file.
